


August and Royal

by VaguelyCreativeName



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Family, Gen, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, War, War with Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaguelyCreativeName/pseuds/VaguelyCreativeName
Summary: Augusta Fawley has always led a very privileged life, born as the youngest child and only daughter into one of wizarding Britain's oldest families, she grows up doted-on by her parents and four older brothers who took personal insult should any harm come to their darling sister. But she also grows up in times of war, and not even her brothers can protect her from it.
Kudos: 1





	August and Royal

Augusta Fawley was born as the youngest child and only daughter into one of Britain’s oldest wizarding families and grew up doted-on by her parents and four rambunctious older brothers. Four daring brothers who took personal insult should anything happen to their darling sister and devoted much of their time to shielding her from harm. Her sheltered upbringing ensured that Augusta was faced with a crude awakening once she entered Hogwarts. Andrew and Jack had already left by that point, and the yellow-and-black trimmings on Leslie’s uniform meant they were separated for most of the day, and, thus, most of the looking-after fell to 15-year-old Edgar. Naturally, one brother could not achieve what had previously taken four, and soon, Augusta began to draw her own connections between worried looks and furrowed brows at the teachers’ table and hushed conversations exchanged back home, shut down the minute the children entered the room – although lately, Augusta felt she was the only one excluded. Andrew and Jack had been grown for almost as long as she could remember, of course, but over the summer, before she started school, even Edgar had been allowed to listen in, and was asked his opinion while Leslie and Augusta were sent off by their father. And while they would both ask their brothers afterwards, only Leslie would receive answer. It wasn’t fair, Augusta thought, he was barely two years older than her; why should he be privy to information kept from her?

At Hogwarts, however, it was surprisingly easy to find out what went on in the rest of the world. A lot of the upper years got the papers delivered, and many were careless enough to leave them lying around after they’d finished with them. Augusta had never been one to do a lot of reading before, but it was the easiest solution to getting to the bottom of things, so for the first few weeks of school, Augusta was often found with her face burrowed deep in the Prophet. Edgar had tried to stop her, at first, but this was an important year for him, and he couldn’t devote enough time to his little sister to keep her from doing exactly as she saw fit. The first years spent much of their time discussing what was going on ‘out there’, how an evil wizard called Grindelwald tortured innocent people, and was waging war on the continent. At first, Augusta thought this meant she was safely tucked away in her Scottish school and English home, but the papers kept insisting that Grindelwald viewed Britain as essential in his quest for power, and that his next moves were all designed with his eyes set on England. When Augusta asked Edgar about it, he tried to wave aside her questions, and told her not to worry about it, but the pained look on his face told her otherwise. Leslie had been a little more helpful; while he admitted he wasn’t sure, he said that things must be grimmer than even the Prophet painted them, and that he’d overheard several of the older Hufflepuffs declaring they would ‘join up’, soon as they’d finish school.

As such, Augusta was not surprised when, two weeks after the end of term, her mother requested that all five of them be present for dinner one evening, in a far more formal setting than they were used to. They would finally tell her what was happening, and what could be done about it. It was not her mother, however, who carried most of the conversation that night. Instead, Andrew and Jack laid out their plans to go to mainland Europe, and to join the resistance. Augusta was sure that once again, she was the last to know: After all, her mother had instigated the meeting, and had this been the first her father had heard of it, he surely would have shouted, but he sat quietly at the table, far too composed for this revelation to be news. Edgar, too, was staring blankly ahead, and Augusta felt that he must have already voiced his protest, already screamed that he would come of age in half a year, and that they couldn’t stop him from joining them. Perhaps Leslie had been in the dark with her, but he was always so serious it was difficult to tell if his silence had been induced by shock or resignation. Augusta herself felt as though she ought to have expected this. Of course, her brave, idealistic, idiot brothers would volunteer the minute they heard of others suffering. Jack’s loud, brash, and daring behaviour, and Andy’s quiet contemplation and inherent goodness, so different in effect, but born from the same motivation – to do better – would always mean they’d fight eventually, if they thought they could make a difference. Thus, Augusta wasn’t surprised, or shocked by her brothers’ decision, but deeply saddened nonetheless, and wished only that they would have waited a little longer.

She returned to school for her second year of magical education much more grown up, and with that change of perspective, Hogwarts, too, felt gloomier, and less exciting. Gone was the mystery of finding out, the thrill of nicking other people’s papers, replaced with dread every time she scanned her own subscription for news of the war she now had two brothers fighting in. Two brothers whose letters told her nothing of what was going on, or how they were doing. But at least the letters, passed around between the three younger siblings, confirmed that no matter how drab things got, their brothers were together still, and had each other if nothing else. Thus, Augusta poured her heart into her own letters and pushed Ed and Leslie to do the same. Leslie was always very forthcoming, and never had to be reminded more than once, but Edgar would often only add a postscript to the letter she had written, but Augusta persevered, and always managed to send their replies with the family owl in a timely fashion.

Edgar, Leslie and Augusta had all gone home for Christmas, but had missed their older brothers, who had apparently visited for a few days in December. According to their mother, they were both doing well, and while Augusta believed her – because to doubt that fact was unthinkable – she knew that no one would tell her if it wasn’t so. That summer, she became fast friends with the girl from the farm next over. Ethel was three years older and had two brothers fighting in a different war. Like hers, Ethel’s brothers had volunteered to fight for freedom, and once Augusta learned to speak of Fusiliers and regiments, the girls’ struggles were similar enough and both took comfort in each other. Ethel also told her that her brothers might return from the war very different than they had first set out, so it was with some trepidation that Augusta awaited their visit. Jack and Andrew were scheduled to come home for a full week, the longest they’d been back since they left. And while she could still recognise her brothers in the solemn young men returned from the front, a year of warfare had altered them; Jack in particular seemed strange to the youngest Fawley child at times, the carefree boy she’d known disappeared into their father’s office, hardly speaking to anyone but Andy, and very occasionally Ed. In Andrew, these changes were less noticeable, if only because he’d been pensive before, though he did spend a lot more time with the horses. They left far too soon, and the house felt emptier than it had before. That summer also marked Augusta’s first proper fight with Edgar since they’d been children, their stubborn personalities clashing in ways they hadn’t in years. Ed, now of age, wanted to sign up and join his brothers then and there. Augusta absolutely forbade it. It was bad enough having two brothers daily risking their lives, and she couldn’t bear a third. She threatened she’d never forgive him if he left, but what dissuaded him in the end were their father’s reminders that he was still a school boy, and not yet fully qualified, which would at least keep Ed safe for another year.

Augusta’s third year at Hogwarts, therefore, was slave to the mission of changing Ed’s mind, of making him see that he didn’t want to go to war – how could he, after seeing their brothers so changed? At first, Augusta had hoped to recruit Leslie to her cause, but the Hufflepuff told her that she needed to let Edgar make his own decisions. She was thus left to fend for herself, which led to countless shouting matches carried out in the Gryffindor common room, until she realised that this was Edgar’s way of drawing attention to the war, of encouraging even more people to join the rebellion. Instead, she resorted to hissing under her breath, to pleading, to begging. She didn’t let him see her tears for a long while, not until the end of exams. Edgar had decided he’d leave for France straight from Hogwarts, to save their mother the heartbreak. Even Leslie had insisted that was a terrible idea, and stormed off in a bout of anger, but Ed wasn’t to be dissuaded. “Chin up, Gus,” he’d said, “I’ll be home before you know it.”

None of her brothers came home that summer, except Leslie, of course, but now that he was sixteen, and the oldest child and only son at home, their father had elevated him to the role of confidant, and to join his war council, and the two of them spent most of their time tucked away in Father’s office. No such invitation was extended to Augusta, so she spent most of her time with Ethel. While Augusta had sent off another brother into war since they’d last spoken, Ethel now had only one brother fighting at the front. Her oldest hadn’t been heard of for months, and in July, the family received news that he was now presumed dead. Augusta was glad she could be there for her friend, as even with weeks to get used to the idea, Ethel couldn’t have armed herself for this most devastating of missiles, for her world to be shattered. Even Augusta was shaken. Though she hadn’t known the neighbour’s boy very well, his death brought the war closer than it had ever hit before, when casualties had remained hidden behind anonymous faces. That Sidney had fallen in a different fight mattered little, as far as Augusta was concerned; both her and Ethel’s brothers battled fascists murdering innocents in their mad quests for power, and as such, she was attuned to the possibility of losing one of her own.

She went back to school that year with a heavy heart, and unwanted notoriety to boot. The war had now reached Hogwarts, creeping out of conversations into the corridors, and with three boys having joined the resistance, the Fawleys had made their allegiance abundantly clear. Not everybody was on their side. There had, of course, always been derogatory talk about muggles and muggleborns, but never had it translated into physical violence before. Thrust into the role of figurehead for the revolution, Augusta often found she needed to break up fights, and scare away the attackers while Leslie taught the younger students to stick together, and how to defend themselves if need be. Hogwarts had become a dangerous place, and Augusta hated to think what her brothers must be going through: If not even a school, hidden in the Scottish Highlands was safe, how dreadful would it be in France, at the heart of the resistance, where Andy, Jack, and Ed were faced not with foolish teenagers, but with ruthless experienced wizards? But it was all too easy to get caught up in Hogwarts’ own darkness, and Augusta would often push thoughts of her brothers to the back of her mind. One day late in April, Augusta was called out of Charms class to Professor Merrythought’s office, where Leslie was already waiting. They were to go home immediately, for Edgar had made good on his promise.

Andy had lost a finger, the fourth on his left hand. It had been blown off as he tried to protect Ed, to shield his brother’s body with his own. But he’d been too slow, and while the curse had grazed his hand, his younger brother’s chest had borne the brunt, splitting open in so many places. He refused to tell Augusta – not that she’d expected any differently – but she’d overheard him speaking to Leslie, in hushed, halting, harrowed tones. There hadn’t been anyone present who knew what to do, a dozen fighters but no one with medical training, and so Edgar had bled to death, despite the half bottle of dittany they’d poured into his wounds. At least he hadn’t suffered for long, Andy had said, but every second her brave, passionate, darling brother had hurt pained Augusta a thousand-fold. Jack and Andrew returned to France shortly after; Jack because it was all he knew and Andrew because he could still hold a wand with his right hand. Leslie, too, newly seventeen, snuck away in the dead of night. He’d left a letter at least, speaking of his noble reasons and his love for their family and freedom. Of how he needed to honour Ed’s memory, and join the resistance himself, though he would go to Belgium. He hadn’t said, but Augusta knew this was because Andy would drag him home had the youngest brother tried to follow them to France.

She didn’t do much that summer. Ethel visited.

It was difficult to return to school when her own life had been irreversibly turned upside-down, but the thought of staying home with her father, a shell of his former self, and mother, shrunken and decades older, seemed unbearable, so – for the first time – Augusta boarded the Hogwarts Express alone. Once settled back at school, she tried to keep busy whenever possible. With her OWLs fast approaching, this should have been easy in any case, but rather than throwing herself into her studies, Augusta embraced her role as Hogwarts’ Jeanne d’Arc, leading the resistance, and strove for Florence Nightingale. She had no interest in a career in healing but knew that her brothers would cherish those skills when she’d join them, and so took to shadowing Nurse Philpott, learning to mend broken bones, care for the injured, and, first and foremost, heal any wound instantly, to stop it from bleeding. Her efforts should prove to be in vain, however, as that year, Albus Dumbledore put the world back in order with one fatal duel. Europe may have returned from the clutches of anarchy and destruction, but that brought no solace to the Fawley children.


End file.
